Read Online The Unexpected Everything by Morgan Matson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Morgan Matson
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years ago, first by my parents and then by Peterâbut that didnât mean I needed to be overly polite to a guy who couldnât even keep hold of his pet. Also, I had something I had to do.
The guy straightened up and smiled at me. âThanks,â he said.
I took an involuntary step backward. For some reason, seeing him from a distance, Iâd assumed he was older than meâin his twenties, maybe. But this guy looked around my age. He wasonly an inch or two taller than me, which meant he was probably around five ten, and thin, but with broad shoulders. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and neatly combed and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a black shirt that read THE DROID YOUâRE LOOKING FOR in yellow capital letters, which rang a vague bell, but nothing I could place. I could see that he had two deep dimples, like parentheses around his smile. They were incredibly distracting, and I made myself look away immediately. He was wearing glasses with frames that were straighter on top and then became rounded, and his smile widened when I met his eyes.
âSure,â I said as I took another step away.
âIâum, I really am sorry,â he said, looking down at the dog. It seemed like heâd gotten his breath back now. âIâm not sure what happened, but the leash got away from me.â He shrugged and went to put his hands in his pockets, and it wasnât until Bertieâs head got yanked up that he seemed to remember he had a leash in one of them. I saw that his cheeks, and the tips of his ears, were starting to turn red. âUm.â He cleared his throat, his voice getting softer with every word. âIâm not great with dogs.â
I was about to say something to thisâlike, what kind of excuse was that? He clearly owned a dogâwhen I decided to let it go. âItâs fine,â I said, giving him a quick smile before I turned back to Dr. Rizzoliâs house. I had taken a few steps toward it when I realized that all the dog drama had taken place in pretty clear view of the front windows. Had Dr. Rizzoli seen what had happened?
The dog lunged toward me, and I heard the guy say, âBert!â as he pulled him back, and then the soft sound of disappointed dog whimpering. But I was only half paying attention to this.My eyes were scanning the front of Dr. Rizzoliâs house, my hopes starting to nose-dive. All the curtains were drawn. There were no lights on that I could see, no cars in the driveway, and most telling of all, there was a layer of green summer leaves covering the front steps. Either Dr. Rizzoli was out of town, or he hadnât left the house in a while. Why had I just assumed that he would be here, waiting for me, willing to correct the mistake and let me go to my program after all?
I stared at the house, telling myself that I could still do this, that this wasnât over yet. I could get his number and call him and get him to change his mind . . . but even as I was forming this plan, I knew it wasnât going to work. All the adrenaline and righteous anger that had gotten me here was fading, and I was left with the reality of the situation: Dr. Rizzoli had e-mailed Johns Hopkins and gotten me pulled from the program. Heâd meant to do that, and he wasnât about to undo it because I asked him nicely.
Feeling like I was about to cryâsomething I very rarely did, usually only at moviesâI turned around and started walking across the street, back to my car, crossing my arms over my chest.
âUhâso, see you around?â the guy called after me, and I could hear the nervous, hopeful note in his voice. Under other circumstances, I probably would have responded to this. He was really cute, after all, even if he had no idea how to walk a dog. But not today. Not with everything that had been my life currently in pieces at my feet.
âProbably not,â I said, keeping my eyes fixed straight
The guy straightened up and smiled at me. âThanks,â he said.
I took an involuntary step backward. For some reason, seeing him from a distance, Iâd assumed he was older than meâin his twenties, maybe. But this guy looked around my age. He wasonly an inch or two taller than me, which meant he was probably around five ten, and thin, but with broad shoulders. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and neatly combed and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a black shirt that read THE DROID YOUâRE LOOKING FOR in yellow capital letters, which rang a vague bell, but nothing I could place. I could see that he had two deep dimples, like parentheses around his smile. They were incredibly distracting, and I made myself look away immediately. He was wearing glasses with frames that were straighter on top and then became rounded, and his smile widened when I met his eyes.
âSure,â I said as I took another step away.
âIâum, I really am sorry,â he said, looking down at the dog. It seemed like heâd gotten his breath back now. âIâm not sure what happened, but the leash got away from me.â He shrugged and went to put his hands in his pockets, and it wasnât until Bertieâs head got yanked up that he seemed to remember he had a leash in one of them. I saw that his cheeks, and the tips of his ears, were starting to turn red. âUm.â He cleared his throat, his voice getting softer with every word. âIâm not great with dogs.â
I was about to say something to thisâlike, what kind of excuse was that? He clearly owned a dogâwhen I decided to let it go. âItâs fine,â I said, giving him a quick smile before I turned back to Dr. Rizzoliâs house. I had taken a few steps toward it when I realized that all the dog drama had taken place in pretty clear view of the front windows. Had Dr. Rizzoli seen what had happened?
The dog lunged toward me, and I heard the guy say, âBert!â as he pulled him back, and then the soft sound of disappointed dog whimpering. But I was only half paying attention to this.My eyes were scanning the front of Dr. Rizzoliâs house, my hopes starting to nose-dive. All the curtains were drawn. There were no lights on that I could see, no cars in the driveway, and most telling of all, there was a layer of green summer leaves covering the front steps. Either Dr. Rizzoli was out of town, or he hadnât left the house in a while. Why had I just assumed that he would be here, waiting for me, willing to correct the mistake and let me go to my program after all?
I stared at the house, telling myself that I could still do this, that this wasnât over yet. I could get his number and call him and get him to change his mind . . . but even as I was forming this plan, I knew it wasnât going to work. All the adrenaline and righteous anger that had gotten me here was fading, and I was left with the reality of the situation: Dr. Rizzoli had e-mailed Johns Hopkins and gotten me pulled from the program. Heâd meant to do that, and he wasnât about to undo it because I asked him nicely.
Feeling like I was about to cryâsomething I very rarely did, usually only at moviesâI turned around and started walking across the street, back to my car, crossing my arms over my chest.
âUhâso, see you around?â the guy called after me, and I could hear the nervous, hopeful note in his voice. Under other circumstances, I probably would have responded to this. He was really cute, after all, even if he had no idea how to walk a dog. But not today. Not with everything that had been my life currently in pieces at my feet.
âProbably not,â I said, keeping my eyes fixed straight
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